A Series of Unfortunate Events
by Midnight Circus
Summary: A bunch of Fuji/Ryoma stories.
1. Tennis Training

Yep, another one woo hoo this is actually supposed to be before the other one.

Yes, still on writers block, if that is considered. I just don't want to even touch that story AT ALL.

Oh my gosh what is wrong with me.

Well, here you go!

O0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

"Please don't poke me."

"I am not poking you. I am merely stimulating the nerve endings on your shoulder to ease blood flow in your body."

"My blood is flowing extremely well, so if you please?" Ryoma stared expectantly at his senior, inching a little more to his right.

Fuji lowered his voice mysteriously, "That's what everyone says. But they are the ones who suffer in the end."

"I think I'll take that risk." Ryoma wiped his sweaty chin on the sleeve of his shirt, tennis racquet leaning against one leg.

"But I'm afraid I can't, Ryoma. You see, when a close companion dies, it is likely that one might feel a certain amount of distr—"

"Who's dying, don't curse me."

"But you are the one who refused my goodwill. Obviously, you're just asking for dea—" He stopped and looked up at Ryoma, who had just stood up and was heading to another bench. That contained Tezuka.

"Can I join the sane people?" Fuji heard Ryoma say.

"Hn."

He didn't hear Tezuka's reply, but it should have been along the lines of that.

O0o0o0o0o0

Ryoma was feeling very pleased with himself.

He had escaped from the strange clutches of his brunette senior and had just managed to convince Tezuka to play a match against him. He ran back to hit a lob. Raised his arm and thrust it for…

What the hell was Fuji doing with his bag? He swore, he was going to kill him with his bare hands—

He felt a slight pressure against his left arm, and realized that the ball had hit his racquet earlier than expected.

Or maybe he just wasn't paying attention.

Either way, the path of the yellow blur was, to say the least, unexpected.

As was the muffled 'oof' from somewhere behind the building.

And the sight of their dear Ryuuzaki sensei storming up the courts, forehead in one hand, tennis ball in the other.

"Oh my…" Fuji was saying, unbelievably cheerful. He was smiling. Smiling.

"NOW THE PERSON WHO HIT THAT BALL HAD BETTER OWN UP IN FIVE… FOUR… THREE…"

"I apologize, sensei, it was an accident."

"So it was YOU?" The teacher, so surprised she forgot to be angry, looked at the tennis ball in her hand to the team captain in complete and utter disbelief.

"N—"

"No," Ryoma cut in, "It was—"

"It was you?" She said again, just as shocked as before.

"NO, it was him!" Ryoma pointed at the Tensai, sitting demurely on the bench, his bench, bouncing one of… oh god_, Karupin's_ toys between his two evil hands.

"My dear boy," Ryuuzaki-sensei spat, anger back on full swing, "Don't push the blame."

"But...!"

"He isn't even holding a racquet, now if this happens one more time, you, will regret it dearly." Since Ryoma was obviously too good to hit a wild tennis ball by accident, Ryuuzaki-sensei seemed to have come to the unfortunate conclusion that he had done it on purpose.

"But…!"

"Don't talk back, detention, tomorrow."

"Ryuuzaki-sensei, I don—" Fuji piped up, and about time as well.

"God what is wrong with kids these days, always disrespecting their elders."

"Sensei."

"Detention, tomorrow for you too! Go wash the windows or something. And get me some ice!"

Ryoma didn't know to be happy, or angry, or confused.

He went with confused, it was the easiest.

"No offence, Fuji-senpai, but that was kind of stupid."

"You know, saying no offence before anything doesn't make any less offensive."

"I know, it just takes it off my conscience if you are offended."

"Ah."

O0o0o0o0

"I said, don't poke me! Speaking of which, what were you doing with my bag? And give that back." He snatched Karupin's toy from Fuji's slender fingers and dropped it back into his bag.

"That has no connection what so ever." Fuji turned around primly and clasped his hands together.

"This is all your fault!"

"My fault? For what?"

"I have not had a SINGLE detention since the day I stepped into kindergarten."

"You mean you have before kindergarten?"

"If you count standing in a corner with my hands above my head. My mom." He added quickly.

"If I must remind you, I, too, have never had a single detention before this either."

"Wow, some comfort."

"There's always a first for anything."

"Yeah, this is a memory I will always treasure. Throughout my entire life, I will always look back to this incident as a source of inspiration and courage." Ryoma said, voice positively oozing sarcasm.

"That's very optimistic, well, I shall make some memories too."

"Glad to know that." He turned on his heel and stomped off, not even bothering to pick up his tennis bag.

Fuji watched him turn into the changing rooms. As he proceeded to pick up Ryoma's things, he was greeted with a fairly strange sight.

Tezuka had his face buried in his hands and was shaking his head from side to side. Now how often did you get to see that? Not very. He whipped out a camera of yet unknown origin.

"Perfect."

O0o0o0o0o0o0

Oh my! It only took two hours to get this done (meep!)

I hope you read this before the W.W chapter :), it is supposed to be first, after all. I guess this will be, like a series of random oneshots loosely connected?

I seem to be better at those things…

Owell, hope you liked it!


	2. Window Washing

Yes, I'm sorry I've been rather sparse lately. Just settled in to our new apartment. It's actually a bit bigger than the old one, but it is a lot further away from school. Nevermind, it's the holidays now anyway.

Soo… yeah, I am seriously brain dead with my other story, so I'm just going to write random short ones and post them up onto this story thingo.

Bye, happy holidays.

O0o0o0o0o0o0o0

"I hate washing windows."

"Why?" Ryoma listened intently for the reason, maybe he could have some blackmail cancellation material.

"No reason," Fuji muttered vaguely, "I just do."

"Aah, so even Fuji the genius can have irrational hatred of things."

Fuji wrung the soaking rag in his hands, flicking it to get rid of excess water, "Of course I do. Everyone does. Kind of like you with Inui Juice." He said slyly, bending down and wiping the lower half of the glass panel.

Ryoma gave an involuntary shudder.

"Fuji-senpai! You're taller than me, shouldn't you do the upper half?"

"Why? You have the chair, don't you?"

He was unable to counter this argument, so he made sure to aim enough water droplets onto Fuji to aggravate him.

"Excuse me?"

"What?" he said, with the most innocence he could conjure. Putting one foot onto the chair, he balanced himself before wiping the top of the panel. Even with the chair, he was still a little short to reach the top.

"Fuji-senpai!" he groaned, "I told you, you should be doing the top."

"Just jump, Ryoma." Fuji said cheerfully, completely content with his crouched position on the floor.

"I am on a CHAIR. What if it topples, huh?"

"I'm sure I can handle that."

Resisting the urge to make a very offensive hand gesture, Ryoma tip toed and stretched one arm as high as it could go. It barely brushed against the metal frame, but that would do.

O0o0o0o0o0

"Ahhhh! Just how many windows does this stupid school have anyway? I could be doing something productive, like tennis, or playing with Kar—"

"Just two more corridors left, Ryoma, be patient." Fuji said, patronizing.

"I am Completely patient. I have the more patience than even the most patient person. I just want to go home NOW!"

"You could be prince of the paradox. Come on, don't be lazy~"

Ryoma got onto the chair again, slapping the sopping towel harder than necessary onto the glass.

"Ryoma," Fuji began dangerously, "Kindly refrain from giving me showers with dirty water please."

This only succeeded in getting another splash of water from the dripping towel.

"You wanted to down there, not my problem." He straightened again to wipe the ridiculously dirty window.

From his position on the floor, even Fuji had to marvel at the magnificentl view. Every time Ryoma stretched upward, his shirt hitched up, just enough to expose an adequate amount of skin to be deemed inappropriate.

"Fuji-senpai, I really can't reach that par—Fuji-senpai?" Fuji wasn't on the floor area to his right. Where did he go?

"Saa…" Fuji stood in front of the chair, his head inches away from the freshman's navel.

"FUJI-SENPAI, WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?"

"Hmm, nothing. I just think you were right."

"Huh?" disconcerted by this unusual display from the genius, it was all he could manage.

"Maybe I should do the top." With that, he planted his lips just above Ryoma's bellybutton.

"AHRHHHHHHHHGGG!" Ryoma, in a bid to remove the tensai from his being, flailed his limbs, momentarily forgetting that he was still perched upon a stool. Finding himself pinned down on the tiled floor seconds later was no less disturbing than the events prior to the fall.

"Hnm? Maybe I don't hate window washing after all." Fuji mumbled distractedly.

"THEN DO IT YOURSELF!" Ryoma yelled flung down his sodden rag, which conveniently landed onto Fuji's face, and stormed off loudly, apparently walking into a row of lockers by the sounds of it.

Fuji pulled himself onto his feet and rested himself against the wall.

"Saa…"

"Fuji, what did you do this time."

"Nothing, Tezuka, nothing at all."

O0o0o0o0o0o0

Haha, hope you liked it!

MC


	3. Temper Tantrums

Hey everyone!

I decided to spare myself the required brainpower to link all the stories and just mush out everything that I am thinking.

Enjoy!

I don't think that was the right word to use.

O0o0o0o0o0

"Ryoma!"

"What? Can't you see I'm trying to work?"

"What work?"

Ryoma gave up, taking off his cap to fan himself.

"Yes?"

"I sat…"

"Yes, just sit down."

"No, I sat—"

"WHAT HAPPENED TO MY TENNIS RACQUET OH MY GOD OH MY GOD!"

"I sat on it."

"FUJI-SENPAI, WHAT DID YOU DO?"

"I sat on it."

Ryoma was speechless as he took in the gory sight of his tennis racquet, broken, so horribly. How could this have happened? How could ha have left it so unattended, it was all his fault. NO! It was all _his_ fault. Fuji's. How dare he sit on his racquet? How dare he! Ryoma clenched his fists tight and trembled with the sheer weight of the fury that he was keeping under his cap.

"FUJJIIIIIIIIIII!" The racquet was snatched out of Fuji's hands and promptly snapped into two. Taking one jagged edge, Ryoma held it aloft, above his head and proceeded to chase Fuji around the tennis courts, the latter looking as panicked as Fuji could look.

"GET YOUR ASS OVER HERE SO I CAN MAKE SURE YOU NEVER SIT DOWN EVER AGAIN!"

"Ryoma, calm down…"

"I'LL KILL YOU."

"Ryoma, let's be reasonable…"

"THE TWO OF YOU, ACT YOUR AGE!" Ryuuzaki-sensei had joined in the drama, using her authority to try to stop Ryoma's rampage.

"I'M TWELVE!" Ryoma screamed back, still stabbing at the air around Fuji with the sharp tennis racquet handle.

"Ryoma… Fuji…" Tezuka said, pushing his spectacles up onto the bridge of his nose, "Please stop now."

As if frozen suddenly, Ryoma paused slightly, did some brief calculation in his head, seemed to think that it was probably less life threatening if he listened to his captain and dropped the weapon.

"Now you come with me, Fuji you too, and explain to me what happened."

"This person," Ryoma spat the words out, "sat, on MY racquet, and BROKE it so I cannot ever PLAY with it EVER again."

"And, what do you say to this, Fuji?"

"I sat on his racquet."

"You see? He doesn't even ATTEMPT to deny it."

"Because that would be lying, Ryoma."

"AHA! You hear that! HE admitted IT!"

"Ryoma… Fuji, can you buy him a new—"

"NO!" Surprisingly, Ryoma interjected, "That was my FIRST tennis racquet that my DAD bought ME on my TENTH BIRTHDAY."

"Fuji will try to get one of the same model—"

"NO! It has SENTIMENTAL VALUE."

"Fuji, what do you have to say for yourself?"

"Sorry, I'll take you to the store—"

"NO! Karupin can NEVER be replaced."

"You… name your racquets?" Fuji stifled a laugh, unsuccessfully.

"NO I don't!" Ryoma denied firmly.

"But I just heard—"

"NO!"

"Right…" Fuji said, obviously unconvinced, "well, I'll try to find something very similar to Karupin, here," Fuji chuckled, "And I'll see what else I can do about the sentimentality of it, alright, Tezuka?"

"You can deal with it, as long as it works."

"Good! Ryoma, what about you?" He bent down to face the little blushing boy, still apparently embarrassed that his Karupin secret had been revealed.

"Fine." He said grudgingly.

O0o0o0o0o0o0

"What about this one, Ryoma?" Fuji took down one of the racquets hanging from the shelf.

"No," Ryoma dismissed, without even looking at it.

"Ryoma, it is the exact same model as the old one."

"So you think it can just be easily replaced like that?" He scoffed.

"Well it'd be a lot easier if you would just look at it."

Ryoma rolled his eyes a fraction to the left, just enough to survey the racquet.

"No."

"Why? I don't see the difference."

"Well, when I brought it out for the first time, a dog chewed the end of the handle, so there's this tiny dent at the edge where the grip tape doesn't cover."

"Ah, so let's get a dog to chew it?"

"You don't understand, do you? There were memories stored in that Racquet."

"Well, you don't have to dwell on old memories, you can make new ones."

"But the memories were good!" Ryoma whined.

"Okay then, what about this one, Yonex."

"Too red."

"This one?"

"Too flashy."

"This one?"

"The squares aren't evenly spaced out."

"You're too picky."

"No! I'm just exclusive in my choices."

"Fine then, I'll just get the dynabeam grandea."

"NO!"

"Okay, I give up, you can use the other two of your three racquets, alright?" Ryoma recoiled, an angry Fuji wasn't what he wanted in his hands.

"I'm leaving, tell me when you've made your choice." With that Fuji left the store, leaving Ryoma in a mass of tennis racquets and the jingling of windchimes.

O0o0o0o0o0o0

"Ryoma!"

"What."

"I'm sorry about yesterday, here you go!" He held out a package, distinctly racquet shaped

"You bought a racquet," Ryoma said flatly.

"Just open it Ryoma."

Staring suspiciously at the ever-present grin plastered on the genius's face, Ryoma unwrapped the package wrapped in brown paper and tied with twine. Vintage packaging. He only hoped the racquet wasn't as ancient.

It was, indeed a racquet. But it seemed distinctly familiar.

There, the dent from the neighborhood dog.

There, the scratch from the brick wall.

There, the little shiny spot where his dad had kindly polished with a rapidly spinning tennis ball (which had hit him in the head after the job was done).

And finally, the little spots of paint on the side where his mother had accidentally spraypainted.

It was… the one and only… Karupin. He hugged it.

"Fuji-senpai! You fixed her!"

Her?

"Yes, well, but I don't think you can us—"

"I can't wait to use her again." He bounced off, racquet in one hand, tennis ball in other, towards a wall of his choice.

"Oh dear, this cannot be good." Fuji mused out loud, "But it might be interesting." He shrugged.

One…

Two…

Three…

"AUUUGGGG! FUJIIIIII!"

"Fuji, what did you do this time?"

"Nothing, Tezuka, nothing at all."

O0o0o0o0

Hope you liked it!

I kind of gave up trying to connect the dots.

I am currently eating tofu from jollibean, who obviously has been diluting the sugar syrup. I shall complain.


End file.
